


Fingerprints

by themegalosaurus



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Breathplay, Conventions, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themegalosaurus/pseuds/themegalosaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Spring 2016 round of SPN Masquerade, to the following prompt:</p><p>  <i>Jared gets off on breathplay so hard, and Jensen is more than happy to oblige him. But while they're filming, all Jensen can do is put his hand over Jared's mouth. It's only during hiatus that he can get his fingers around Jared's neck and apply just the right amount of pressure. Then he gets to enjoy seeing the marks of his hands on Jared's neck for the next few days; unless they're going to be in public and Jared has to wear a scarf, which gets Jensen hot thinking about what the scarf is covering up.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingerprints

**Author's Note:**

> The title is different to [the one I posted on the Masquerade](http://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/7665.html?view=3062257#t3062257), because it was too similar to another title I'd used - and the intro is verrrry similar to [another fic of mine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5750113), so I'm sorry for my utter lack of originality - but it just seemed like a nice easy lead into this teeny tiny story.

The lights onstage are hot and bright and Jared is sweating. He flaps his big hand in front of his face.

Jensen laughs at him. "Why are you wearing twenty layers in public, dude?" he asks.

A voice in the crowd calls, "Strip!"

Jared smirks and shimmies his shoulders; stands up and lifts the hem of his T-shirt, exposing his stomach and the band of his Saxx. The band starts to beat a slow rhythm. Then Jared shakes his head, still smiling, and sits back down. He doesn't take anything off; not the heavy flannel overshirt nor the T-shirt underneath it and not even the soft cotton scarf around his neck.

It's probably for the best. Under the scarf, a set of mottled purple bruises disfigure Jared's golden skin. They're dark enough and in a sufficiently prominent position that they'd definitely attract attention. They're for Jensen's eyes only, and the scarf stays on. The teasing is just - well, if Jensen's honest, he just wants to see Jared flush red with the consciousness of what's hidden, to watch his eyes darken as he remembers the previous night.

They can't do it for most of the year; Sam Winchester doesn't wear scarves. Jensen has to content himself with a hand tight over Jared's mouth, hard push of Jared's teeth against his palm. It's fine, but it's not enough for either of them, not really. So on wrap nights now they have a tradition - a ritual - a routine - whatever you'd call it. They drink their whisky with the rest of the cast and crew, dispense claps on the back and congratulations and marvel that the show's still on, and then they go back to the Vancouver apartments and Jensen fucks Jared while he chokes him 'til he almost blacks out.

It started, even though it hasn't been allowed to continue, with Sam. During the early few seasons of the show, the frequency with which Sam got strangled became kind of a running gag, something that fans would comment on and that Jensen would gleefully point out every time it popped up in another new episode's script. Jared nodded along with the joke, laughed at it like he's always ready to laugh at himself, and then one day in bed Jensen slipped his hands half-joking around Jared's neck and Jared stuttered his hips and gripped his fingers into Jensen's side and gasped, a long breathy dragging noise that made Jensen shiver all-over turned on.

"Yeah," Jared had breathed, barely making a sound. "Do it, Jen, do it, go on." So Jensen had settled his thumbs in more firmly, pushed into the soft base of Jared's throat, and Jared's whole body had arched and flexed and on the instant that Jensen released him, he'd come, shaking wild and helpless and shocked at his own response.

They're better at it now, more practised. Jensen knows exactly how far he can push it; can recognise the point where it's almost too much, where he needs to decompress his grip and let Jared's airways clear. He gets off on it, too, of course: partly just because Jared loves it so much, and it's hot as fuck being able to drive him crazy like that. But Jensen's also learned to appreciate the act in itself. There's something intoxicating in the absolute trust that it implies. Under Jensen's thumbs, Jared is utterly vulnerable. That he lets Jensen do this - that he likes it - it's only half about the physical sensation; half about the dizzying tightrope feeling that they're everything to each other, that Jared's offering up his life every time and Jensen's holding it safe for him, testing the limits, always coming through.

The bruising is a side-effect, but Jensen finds that pretty hot too. Knowing that there's only a thin layer of cotton protecting their most intimate secrets gives a giddy edge of danger to every second in public, on-stage. He loves it. He never realised he was such an exhibitionist until he and Jared hooked up; but then, the whole thing's been an education. They've learned each other and themselves together.

Jared's talking now, answering a question animated and chattering and gesturing with his arms, and Jensen cuts in with a teasing comment. He leans over, still talking, and rests his hand heavy on the back of Jared's neck. Curling his fingers, he lets them settle into the very edges of the bruises he dug into Jared's skin last night.

Jared stops talking - just for a moment - and flicks his eyes towards Jensen. Jensen grins at him, affable, and then lets go and sits back. Jared licks his lips, quick and nervous, and then drags his attention back towards the fan who he was speaking to. His fingers tip tap on his knee.

Jensen wonders if there's any chance of getting back to their room before their auto sessions this afternoon. He wonders how big the janitors' closets are in this hotel and he tries to calculate the odds of their being spotted by one of the several hundred fans in attendance. He wonders how much he cares.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always welcome!


End file.
